In
this article, aspects of postmodern supervision are explored that highlight the
blurring of boundaries that occurs between the multiple roles performed by
supervisors. An approach to supervision is detailed that shows how a supervisor
who navigates between roles can assist supervisees in constructing identities
congruent with the stories they tell about themselves as successful therapists.
Six of the many possible roles that supervisors play are illustrated through
dialogue taken from a group supervision session. In the last part of this
article, concepts that inform a postmodern approach to supervision, borrowed
from the literature on narrative and constructionist therapy, are
discussed.

Traditionally, what supervisors model through their supervision has been
intended to fit with what supervisees hope to accomplish through their clinical
work. As Yingling (2000) explains, "I try to create a relationship context where
systemic interventions can be isomorphically experienced" (p. 37). Although
systems thinking and postmodern principles of family therapy supervision may
diverge, there is still merit to the argument that the supervisor succeeds only
to the extent that good practice is modeled through the process of the
supervision.

In this article, I
examine aspects of a postmodern approach to supervision, specifically the
blurring of boundaries between the multiple roles supervisors are perceived to
perform. I explore how, as a supervisor, I might navigate my way through
multiple roles, offering supervisees opportunities to construct identities
through our relationship that are congruent with the stories that they prefer to
tell about themselves as therapists-stories with which they describe themselves
as successful therapeutically and engaged with those with whom they work. This
process is similar to the one postmodern-oriented therapists seek to construct
with their clients. I accomplish this goal of supervision best when the process
I use as a supervisor moves me fluidly through the multiple roles I perform as
the supervisor, creating concurrent self-constructions of myself that are
helpful to supervisees in their training. I make the effort to help supervisees
experience themselves much like clients experience themselves, co-constructed by
the process of therapy. Thus, my goal during supervision is to offer the best
experience possible for supervisees to experience preferred identity
conclusions, ways in which they wish to be known to themselves and others as
therapists. In this postmodern approach I am never just "the supervisor," a
singular identity determined by my role, but instead I am co-constructed in
multiple ways through interaction with the supervisee, depending on what the
supervisee wants or needs.

I begin with a
description of six of the many possible roles that supervisors might play and
argue for understanding each as both contextually and temporally relevant. An
illustration of dialogue taken from a supervision session illustrates the
process of the supervisor navigating between these six identities as the
supervisee is invited to construct his or her preferred identity story as a
therapist. In the last part of this article, I explore concepts which might
inform a postmodern supervision, borrowed from the literature on narrative and
constructionist therapies.

I prefer in my
work to use the term "postmodern" as opposed to "narrative" or "constructionist"
in order to avoid the totalizing effect of association with only one emerging
branch of therapeutic practice (for example, that of the Dulwich Centre in
Australia; White, 1997). Broadly speaking, postmodern theory is a collection of
interpretations made about the world that are constantly changing.
Postmodernists, a titular oxymoron, abstain from metanarratives, that is, grand
explanations for how the world ought to be (Best & Kellner, 1997). Despite
their reluctance to put forth grand theory, those who theorize about postmodern
epistemology most often focus attention not on the individual, but on the
process by which our world comes to be known through the language we use, the
power dynamics of who controls how language is used, and the stories that we
collectively tell (Berger & Luckmann, 1966; Denzin, 2001; Newman &
Holzman, 1997). These stories have previously been called "narratives"-stories
told over time about our lives embedded within the social discourses that
influence and shape them (Freedman & Combs, 1996). In this portrait of a
chaotic world in which the way we know ourselves is through stories, negotiated
with others, in which cultural pluralism is celebrated (each culture having its
own truth claims), there is tremendous potential to argue that our identity is
fluid, changing to match the demands made upon us. It is an optimistic point of
view. With fluidity in the ways we know ourselves and are known by others comes
the possibility to find unique solutions that fit well within the discursive
spaces in which we live and interact, solutions that address the problems that
challenge our sense of well-being. Such a postmodern philosophy finds expression
in a number of clinical forms, including the work of White and his colleagues in
Adelaide, Australia, and elsewhere (Fox, Tench, & Marie, 2002; White, 1997,
2000; Winslade, 2002), that of Newman and Hozman (1997) in community psychiatric
settings, and my own work and that of others who are concerned with high-risk
children and their families and the narratives of survival that they author and
sustain (Madsen, 2000; Smith & Nylund, 1997; Ungar, 2001, 2002, 2004a,
2004b).

More specifically,
in the field of family therapy supervision, postmodernism has been discussed by
Wieling et al. (2001), White (1997), Gardner, Bobele, and Biever (2002), Fox et
al. (2002), and Winslade (2002), among others. Not surprisingly, this postmodern
practice has been no more evaluated than have most other approaches to
supervision. According to Storm (2000; Storm, Todd, Sprenkle, & Morgan,
2001) there is a surprising lack of research that has demonstrated the
effectiveness of supervision of any kind. In the absence of hard evidence, I
present anecdotal support for the usefulness of this postmodern approach in this
article. Although it is beyond the scope of this article to discuss at length,
efforts to evaluate this approach will require a methodology that fits
paradigmatically, relying on the supervisees' co-constructions of the
supervision process and includes them as coresearchers (for related work, see
Flemons, Green & Rambo, 1996; Gaddis, 2004).

The
Flexible Supervisor

As supervisors, the
identity constructions we assume are experienced as different roles in relation
to those we supervise. Each of the roles that we perform reflects our diversity.
Each is not only an expression of ourselves as professionals, but also who we
are as individuals. Our identity as supervisors is, of course, also an
expression of our different cultures, genders, races, ethnicity, sexual
orientations, and abilities. Starting with such a plurality of possible selves,
when we encounter supervisees we have much to draw on and much to account for.
Most supervisors already acknowledge these contested terrains of diversity and
are transparent in their practice (Fine & Turner, 2002). As a postmodern
supervisor, this diversity is also embraced as just another way in which the
supervisor accentuates aspects of his or her identity in order to participate
with supervisees in a co-construction of the supervisees as competent in their
practice. When accomplished well, a supervisor who is fluid in his or her
selection of an identity as supervisor opens up possibilities for the therapist
(and supervisor) to play many different roles, both when practising therapy and
during supervision. Although supervisor-supervisee is one possible way to
describe the roles enacted through the relationship, multiple and intersecting
roles are to be encouraged if the problems that supervisees encounter doing
therapy are to be overcome. In this way, I must also reflect on how I have
constructed my identity as a supervisor, seek challenges to that identity when
it is unhelpful to the supervisee, and finally define an identity for myself
that I can perform in a way that fits well with what the supervisee requires. In
the process, boundaries between the many possible selves I might define become
necessarily blurred.

Six
Role Constructions

The boundaries between
the roles we perform are arbitrarily constructed, defining us more in the minds
of others than in ways meaningful to ourselves. Boundaries do not exist as
objective fact, as any parent, partner, employee, or child knows. At any one
moment we may perform one or more of these roles, and define that role as
encompassing elements of the others. Postmodern understandings of the self as
socially constructed mean that there is no essential self nor defined roles for
the self to perform (Best & Kellner, 1997; Gardner, Biever, & Bobele,
2002). Instead, there are only behaviors, invested with names that we
collectively use to categorize those behaviors. I am a "father," for example,
when I do things that, according to others in my culture, define me as a father.
So it is in supervision. Observable in my practice as a supervisor, there are
six roles (and likely more) that I perform, each invested socially with
particular meaning and expectations by myself, my colleagues,, and those I
supervise. These roles include: supporter (to the supervisee), supervisor, case
consultant, trainer/teacher, colleague, and advocate (for both the client and/or
supervisee). Each role is slightly different:

* The supporter is
the role I assume when I support the supervisee emotionally, helping him or her
to explore the meaning of the experience of therapy on a personal level. Within
the bounds of the code of ethics, this role means that supervision explores
emotional hurdles faced by a supervisee that relate to issues beyond his or her
immediate work, without necessarily being so intrusive as to lead to the dual
relationship of the supervisor becoming the supervisee's therapist.

* The role of
supervisor is played when I join with the supervisee to help make him or her the
best clinician he or she can be, drawing on the talents and abilities unique to
that person. As a supervisor (as opposed to supporter) my focus is on the person
in his or her role as therapist, rather than the therapist as a person beyond
the role he or she plays in the clinical setting.

* The case
consultant offers advice on best practice options, clearly articulating the
practice expertise of the supervisor. The case consultant does exactly as the
name implies, comments on the situation of the client and what the client may
need rather than the nature of the therapist's work with the client.

* The trainer or
teacher does more than consult: He or she instructs the supervisee in how to do
an intervention, rehearsing techniques or coaching live performances of therapy.
The trainer or teacher shares not only his or her own expertise, but also the
collective knowledge of the field of practice in which he or she works.

* The colleague
shares clinical responsibilities with the supervisee for an individual or
family, working together collaboratively to fulfill a mutual mandate to help. In
this way supervisee and supervisor become more peer-like in their interactions.

* The advocate
either encourages the supervisee to take action, or him- or herself as
supervisor becomes involved in direct action to garner the resources necessary
to ensure the well-being of either the supervisee or the client with whom the
supervisee is working. Being the advocate means either extending practice beyond
the realm of the supervision session or encouraging the supervisee him- or
herself to become more active in helping clients to negotiate for resources and
representation.

In a postmodern
supervision, these roles necessarily blur together. Supervision models for
supervisees have multiple identity constructions that can be experienced
simultaneously. As in supervision, during therapy, multiple identity
constructions are experienced by the supervisee who must negotiate each with
those he or she is helping. Thus, the process mirrors that which supervisees are
encouraged to use with their clients. In this way, supervision is a bid to
deconstruct a narrow definition of the therapist/supervisor and encourage a more
fluid practice based on postmodern theory that encourages people to see
themselves as simultaneously multiply determined and participants in a process
of self-definition. Thus Storm and her colleagues (Storm, Todd, Sprenkle, &
Morgan, 2002) have noted a trend among supervisors to "have wide latitude to
focus on the interface of their supervisees' personal and professional lives"
(p. 232).

A postmodern turn
in the field of family therapy and greater sensitivity to the intersectionality
between the personal and professional is leading to ever-lengthening lists of
the roles that therapists play. This same trend is emerging slowly in the
supervision of family therapists. Todd and Storm (2002), for example,
distinguish between training, consultation, and supervision as roles that
supervisors fulfill. To them, supervision is a multidimensional process in which
a "qualified therapist monitors professional development and socialization of a
partially qualified clinician" (p. 2). Multiple roles, they say, are "frequently
intermingled" (p. 3) with the impression given by those who have examined
supervision "that these sharp distinctions are often obscured in activities that
are labelled 'supervision'" (Storm et al., 2001, p. 229). A postmodern analysis
of supervisor-supervisee relationships should go further, to understand all
three roles that Todd and Storm identify (and many others) as aspects of a fluid
process of co-construction. Supervision is the sharing of wisdom just as it is
the collecting of others' expertise, while also intervening and building
relationships that further the goals of good clinical practice. However,
supervisees appear to contract with me to address their (1) lack of technique,
leading me to assume the role of consultant and trainer; or (2) lack of ability
to use the techniques that I share, which casts me in the role of supervisor who
offers a reflective process for supervisees to examine critically what they are
doing and even why. Alternately, in helping supervisees to make use of their
knowledge, I am also expected to model concurrently the roles of therapist,
advocate, and colleague, even as I seek to perform the more limited role of just
being their supervisor.

Supervision, which
navigates the spaces between the roles as much as each role itself, allows those
being supervised to experience the synergy between helping, playing the
professional, being concerned, and living meaningfully, all aspects of what is
arguably the therapeutic process that we explore through supervision.
Furthermore, it is an artificial distinction to see boundaries between roles
when each is so culture bound. Supervisees have not been very good at perceiving
their supervisors as unidimensional guides performing their role beyond
culturally defined expectations. For example, in a study of 160 supervisees,
Anderson, Rigazio-DiGilio, Cochran-Schlossberg, and Meredith (2000) found that
those interviewed appreciated different aspects of supervision, training, and
consultation, but each argued that all three were important to their growth as
therapists.

CASE
EXAMPLE

In the following example, the
supervisee says she becomes stuck during her work with a 5-year-old boy and his
family during the boy's treatment for sexual abuse. She works on a long-term
protection team at a local Child and Family Services Agency. A dynamic woman in
her late twenties, the therapist appears to center her expert knowledge about
the boy and his experience, only to become bewildered when he refuses to engage
in treatment in ways that she had expected. Her problem, she says, is being
"stumped," the therapeutic process stuck, even though the boy seems content to
visit the therapist and play. He, interestingly, does not appear to be stuck.
Supervision, taking place in a group setting, sought to consider alternate ways
in which the boy may be constructing the experience of his "abuse," the sources
of his feelings of trauma, and his experience of the therapeutic relationship.
As a new story for the boy emerges, the therapist reconsiders her role as a
clinician with so young a child, having to respect his expertise regarding his
life as she would any other older child or adult. Through the multiple roles I
assume as the supervisor, I seek to move our conversation toward consideration
of multiple realities and the child's own competing "truth claim" (Anderson
& Goolishian, 1992). In the process, I am not only the supervisor eliciting
the supervisee's experience, but also an advocate for the boy (whom I want to be
heard), a teacher as I express ideas that would decenter the therapist from the
therapy, supporter to the supervisee briefly as we explore her reaction to the
child's abuse, and finally case consultant when I advise on a course of
treatment.

Supervisor: Okay.

Therapist: At age
4, he disclosed to his mom that his dad's pee tastes like salt [she laughs a
little nervously]. So there had been some pretty hard-core sexual abuse for
about a year as that was the time when the dad got access. After the divorce,
the dad got access to the boy unsupervised. So after this got disclosed, they
had a CPS [Child Protection Services] investigation, and the evidence they got
against this person was just amazing. He was already in jail for an assault and
he was simply held in jail. Okay, so that's all said and done. Mom works
part-time. Her mother helps to look after the boy. When this boy disclosed it
was all pretty intense [she laughs lightly] for a 4-year-old especially [she
emphasizes these last words]. But he never talked about it again in terms of the
sexual assault. Not with anyone. But he talks all the time about his father.
About how much he misses him and wants to be with him. Apparently it has been
found that his father worked at him for a long time, told him that single
mothers are bad, that people who aren't married will go to jail, really
brainwashing the kid, making him hate his mother. So this child will talk about
his dad with his mom but it's all about "I hate you because you won't let me see
dad." He's so tortured. You can just see the torture and anxiety on this little
fella's face. He says he just hates everyone who won't let him see his dad.

Group Member #1:
What else do you know about him?

Therapist: He has
slight delays, he has trouble achieving his milestones. But it's not that bad
considering everything that's happened to him. Mom says it's all gotten worse
since the sexual abuse. And mom has gone through a really difficult time with
lots of guilt over what happened. She's real depressed. She's so sad, sometimes
she really down, and then when he comes into play therapy he's really down with
what's going on. The family has had a lot of problems with this, as the sexual
assault was so bad [she emphasizes these words]. There was anal penetration as
well, so it was like so bad.

Supervisor: And
how did this all come out then?

Therapist: He was
just sitting at the kitchen table and it all came out, like he just started
talking. He was able to talk about this real easily at the time.

Supervisor: You
said you were stumped. What's making you stumped?

Therapist: Well in
most cases, with most children, the stuff we do, a lot of it is, when children
have been assaulted their development has been interrupted, their development
has been arrested, they may not want to play anymore, they want to take care of
mom, or in a family violence situation they just stop playing. They're slightly
parentified. So we bring the child in and just play, play and see what happens.
We want to make the child feel better, to get things back on track. So I've been
seeing him for about 6 months. He gets extremely agitated whenever I try to
direct the process. Anything about his feelings. He won't talk. He is very
repetitive, he only wants to do one thing. He's very, very specific about what
he wants to do when he sees me. He's fascinated by robots and machines that can
destroy things-like bulldozers, things like that. He's obsessed with those
things. He's very specific in what he'll play with. So I've tried to make my
strategy fit with whatever he wants to do. Only once, though, has he talked
about his dad, about how at his dad's he had a truck like the one we have at the
agency or something. But any other questions, no go. Like I have to try not to
be so directive 'cause I was trained as a child protection worker. But one time,
he did say he wasn't allowed to go over to his dad's place anymore because they
used to touch each others private parts allll the time [she draws this phrase
out], like allllll the time, every day, and that was the closest thing to a
disclosure I've ever gotten. And then he became very agitated again. But that's
like that for many of the kids we work with, but this little guy has so stumped
me because he gets so frustrated with me, but he keeps wanting to come and see
me. He tells his teacher when he is going to come and see me, "I'm going to go
see [the Therapist] today," and we meet in the same place everyday, and I know
his mother is really great and doing some good stuff with him. Talk about
resilience! He's got it!

Group Member #2:
How do you know he gets frustrated with you?

Therapist: That's
a really good question. He clenches his fists, holds his breath, and he said, oh
he's so cute [she pauses and smiles, then sighs and continues], he lashed out at
me. I can't remember exactly what he said, but I think it was, "You don't know
how to play by the rules. You don't know anything about what I want" [she
breathes out heavily, then laughs lightly at what the boy has said] and he's
like only 5. It kind of left me a bit stumped. But he redirected really quickly.
But then I said, "You can teach me." And he was like, paused, and then said
sure, and then he began to show me a bunch of stuff. I don't know, I'm really
stumped.

Group Member #1:
What does he do with the robots?

Therapist: Well
that's really good. There's these robots and there's good robots and bad robots,
and there's this robot that regulates everybody. So he gets thrown into the fire
pit if your robot is attacked by another robot and is disabled, your robot gets
shoved into the pit and discarded. And if one of the robots does something bad,
whichever robot the boy is holding becomes extremely agitated and then the head
robot has to regulate everything, to make it better. Then he gets frustrated.
There's a lot of symbolism there, and his mom says that's all good, but I'm
feeling I'm stuck in this trap. What have I done for this child? What do I have
to offer? Other kids I'd know what to offer, where to go. But what is it about
this kid that's gotten me so stumped?

Supervisor: I'm
curious about something, something I need to clarify. The trauma, what is the
trauma in this boy's case?

Therapist: The
sexual assault.

Supervisor: Yes, I
heard that. But in this case, the trauma, you've said nothing to make me believe
that. I'm sorry, but you've said nothing that's led me to think that the anal
penetration was traumatic for him. Did he say that was a traumatic event
[Advocate role]?

Therapist: No he
said that he thinks that's normal behaviour for a dad.

Supervisor: So, sorry,
I'm getting to something, so the trauma, well there's been no trauma before the
system intervened. Before people like us tried to help [Teacher role].

Therapist: Well,
no. Oh my God, yes that's so true. The system intervened a year ago. He was
being interviewed at the agency and they interviewed mom first and then mom
skipped across to the police station, because it was right across the way, and
just grandma was there when he came out of the interview room. And dad had said
bad things would happen to mom if he said anything. So he tells, and then mom is
gone. I guess he was inconsolable. And the fear and trauma he went through when
he came out of that interview room and mom wasn't there.

Supervisor: When
we started this conversation, talking about the trauma of the abuse, and there
was this amazing evidence before the courts, and you used phrases like
"brainwashing this kid" in reference to what the father says about the mother.
And I'm trying to reconcile that what you told me about how he is tortured with
anxiety, but at no point did you say that he had negative feelings about the
abuse. It's all been about the system responding to the abuse. Unless I missed
it.

Therapist: No
you've got it. You're right.

Supervisor: So are
you doing therapy on the systems' response to the abuse or the abuse?

Therapist: I don't
know, I'm not sure. [At this point another group member interjects and we
explore together what the boy's mother may have been feeling throughout this
experience of disclosure and investigation.]

Group Member #2:
How is the boy doing now?

Therapist: He has
sexualized behaviour. He's aggressive with the other children. He masturbates in
public. She's concerned about that. That's not unusual in cases like this, but
mom's really upset about that. He has nightmares. Wetting the bed.

Supervisor: Is the
question, then, are we all more comfortable talking about the abuse done by the
father? [Supporter role] And I know this is a bit weird to say, but are we more
comfortable talking about that than the system's abuse of the boy?

Therapist: The
system's abuse?

Supervisor: Yes
the system's abuse of the boy. And I don't know if I have permission here, we
don't have a very long working relationship. But I got something else that I
want to give back to you, if that is okay with you?

Therapist: Yes,
for sure.

Supervisor: Well
you said about the boy, you talked about the abuse, then you said, "He's so
cute." And he said, "You don't know what I want," and you said laughing, "He's
only 5." And I'm sort of wondering about that. Has he entered a world here where
people are not hearing him, not because we don't mean to, but if we step back a
bit, we aren't seeing what is really happening? You said you were stumped, and
I'm wondering if that's because there is no contract? [Supervisor role] The
boy's contract may be extremely different, a contract different from the one of
people who see him as a cute innocent victim who lacks the precociousness to
express himself. I'm wondering if we, and that includes me, really see him as a
full-fledged victim able to express himself [Colleague role]?

Therapist: Hmm,
hmm.

Supervisor: Rather
than a full participant who can make sense of this event in his own way, which
to hear him speak about it, he's saying he's frustrated about not seeing dad.
He's really frustrating the professionals around him, because he's saying he has
a really different story about what happened than those professionals. And what
about the masturbation, for example. Does he find that fun?

Therapist: Oh
yeah, of course.

Supervisor: And
people have asked him about that, and he's said he likes it.

Therapist: Oh
yeah.

Supervisor: You
see, that is quite different isn't it?

Group Member #3: I
find it interesting what you are saying, because we see the exactly same
clientele, in terms of the contract you make with a 5-year-old or 15-year-old.
And they're being brought into therapy and half of them don't know why they're
there. And we're really dealing with the family's anxiety or worry, but it is
just a fundamental of therapy, but you have to be mindful of that, that it's the
parents you're contracting with often, not the kids.

Supervisor: Well
you said about the boy, you talked about the abuse, then you said, "He's so
cute." And he said, "You don't know what I want," and you said laughing, "He's
only 5." And I'm sort of wondering about that. Has he entered a world here where
people are not hearing him, not because we don't mean to, but if we step back a
bit, we aren't seeing what is really happening? You said you were stumped, and
I'm wondering if that's because there is no contract? [Supervisor role] The
boy's contract may be extremely different, a contract different from the one of
people who see him as a cute innocent victim who lacks the precociousness to
express himself. I'm wondering if we, and that includes me, really see him as a
full-fledged victim able to express himself [Colleague role]?

Therapist: Hmm,
hmm.

Supervisor: Rather
than a full participant who can make sense of this event in his own way, which
to hear him speak about it, he's saying he's frustrated about not seeing dad.
He's really frustrating the professionals around him, because he's saying he has
a really different story about what happened than those professionals. And what
about the masturbation, for example. Does he find that fun?

Therapist: Oh
yeah, of course.

Supervisor: And
people have asked him about that, and he's said he likes it.

Therapist: Oh
yeah.

Supervisor: You
see, that is quite different isn't it?

Group Member #3: I
find it interesting what you are saying, because we see the exactly same
clientele, in terms of the contract you make with a 5-year-old or 15-year-old.
And they're being brought into therapy and half of them don't know why they're
there. And we're really dealing with the family's anxiety or worry, but it is
just a fundamental of therapy, but you have to be mindful of that, that it's the
parents you're contracting with often, not the kids.

Clearly, the
therapist in this example holds certain values about the boy and has the best
interests of the child at heart. Her being stumped, however, is about her
construction of the boy as a less-than-equal participant in the therapeutic
process. Through supervision, what becomes clear is that there is no contract
with the boy that meets his needs. Supervision seeks to challenge the
therapist's construction as the knowing adult, the expert on trauma, and the
conceptual baggage that both identities bring. At the same time, as the
supervisor, I try to elicit from the therapist another story of what role she
could assume with the boy: a concerned playmate?; a surrogate parent?; a
trustworthy adult? Each of these roles may be valued by the boy more than
"therapist" to his unnamed experience of abuse.

In trying to help
the therapist to overcome her feelings of being stumped, I move between the
different roles I perform as a supervisor. Looking back over the passage, I see
moments when I am the therapist's (and group's) supporter ("Is the question,
then, are we all more comfortable talking about the abuse done by the father?"),
supervisor ("You said you were stumped. What's making you stumped?"), case
consultant ("So he's found something from you that he needs, a place to play"),
teacher ("There's been no trauma before the system intervened. Before people
like us tried to help"), colleague ("I'm wondering if we, and that includes me,
really see him as a full-fledged victim able to express himself?"), and advocate
for the boy and therapist ("Did he say that was a traumatic event?").

This approach appears
to have worked. The therapist eventually owns her part in silencing the boy's
understanding of all the good things that therapy is providing him. She agrees
with what I suggest as her colleague and supervisor-and the boy's advocate-that
the boy is getting what he needs from her. She says, "yes" several times during
our conversation in regard to my interventions. But she also says, "I'm so
worried," making it clear that this is her problem, not the boy's. She reported
leaving our supervision far less stumped, and in subsequent follow-up sessions
said that she had remained well-engaged with the boy, but feeling less like she
was failing as his therapist. She could see her own blurred boundaries and roles
that she performed as the boy's therapist, just as during supervision, I too had
assumed multiple roles as her supervisor. Being guided by postmodern concepts
during this work helped me to perceive the multiple and intersecting identities
that the therapist had assumed in her work. I might call these, from my
perspective, "parent," "playmate," "savior," "protector," or "expert" (in the
sense of trying to be more knowledgeable than the boy about what he needed).
Each of these self-constructions had undermined her preferred identity as a
competent "therapist" even though the evidence was there all along that she was
doing wonderful work. Using our interaction, and interaction with the group,
supervision became a process of negotiating with the therapist for new identity
conclusions that were more congruent with how she wanted to know herself and be
known by her colleagues and clients. And yet, at no time do I completely refute
any of the multiple roles she assumes. Her desire to protect the boy is
supported, but this identity, through our conversation, is reconstructed in a
way that helps the therapist to see herself as successful at protecting the boy
by providing a safe place for him to engage with a caring, consistent adult.
Thus, the therapist, like me as the supervisor, can sustain multiple
self-definitions that snap together well in the service of clients (or
supervisees).

Admittedly, trying to
partialize each role as I have done here is an artificially constraining
exercise, as it is the context in which I say what I say and the reaction by
others that help to determine if my intervention positions me in one role or the
other. Said authoritatively, a phrase like "I wonder . . ." can be interpreted
as me trying to teach others what to think or a collaborative musing with
colleagues that sincerely includes me, beyond my role as supervisor, fully in
the conversation as an equally confused learner searching for answers.

Concepts Relevant to Practising as a Postmodern Supervisor

Although any list of
concepts that purport to delineate a postmodern approach risks leading to the
illusion of foundational thought, I have found that several ideas help to orient
aspects of my practice as detailed above (for related work see Gardner et al.,
2002; White, 2000; Wieling et al., 2001). Combined, these constructs help me to
remain decentered, conscious of my subjectivity, and grounded in my culture and
context. I list here five of these ideas for consideration by other supervisors
seeking to integrate a postmodern orientation into their work.

1)The meaning of expert. A postmodern
understanding of supervision contributes to an acknowledgement that meaning is
always in the process of being negotiated. As Gardner et al. (2002) explain:
"Clients, therapists, supervisees, and supervisors are always in the process of
constructing new meanings about themselves and those with whom they are in
conversation" (p. 218). This naturally leads to some confusion over the relative
positioning of knowledge and practice experience as two different aspects of
supervision. When is it appropriate for the supervisor to cloak him- or herself
in the vestments of expertise? When is it appropriate to share past work
experience, or to play the expert roles of trainer or consultant? I believe
postmodernism provides a theoretically sound alternative to positioning the
therapist as expert. As Gardner et al. write: "Many postmodern supervisors
strive to make use of experience and knowledge gained from training, education,
and clinical experience while at the same time appreciating and nurturing the
uniqueness of supervisees' experiences and knowledge" (p. 218). Supervisors
might therefore choose to decenter themselves from the process of supervision,
bracketing their expertise as just one way of knowing the world. However,
supervisees are just as likely to want to center the therapist, to hear about
his or her experiences, to engage the supervisor in everything from consultation
to advocacy. Even as I pull off my cloak of privilege and power, another may be
offered. This tension is clearly shown in the case illustration above. I am
positioned in the session as the one in charge, and yet I question through my
interventions the way we construct expert knowledge based on age and the
supposed authority that comes with it.

It is a difficult
balance to strike. When is it appropriate to assume the role of expert, and how
can this be done without compromising the broader goal of supervision, that
being to elicit the supervisee's wisdom? Evaluation is one forum in which the
supervisor must center him- or herself. As Sessions (2002) explains in relation
to supervision of social work students, there is a need to ensure that
therapeutic treatment is done in a way that is appropriate to the needs of those
receiving service, even if this means that the supervisor must advise the
student on his or her suitability to practice. Arguably, the field of marriage
and family therapy supervision is striving to flatten the hierarchy in
relationships. However, there remains a gap between good intentions and actual
practices of supervisors, with a preference for some hierarchy to remain in
relationships between supervisors and supervisees (Storm et al.,
2001).

2)Cultural sensitivity. In practice,
the postmodern supervisor demonstrates sensitivity to the uniqueness of each
person being supervised. In the case of the therapist and the little boy
discussed above, what the boy has accepted as normal in his particular context,
is evidently disturbing to the therapist. Until the therapist sees that the
boy's experience of the world is different than her own, she remains stumped. As
is common in therapeutic work and supervision, each person brings a special
culture. This same trend toward cultural sensitivity is growing among all
theoretical orientations to supervision (Storm et al., 2001). Perceived this
way, one might turn to Ng's (2003) work on family therapy around the world to
see that practices must change to suit families, just as they must change to
suit therapists. Ng succeeds in drawing out several principles that are
important to attend to when working across cultures including understanding how
culture influences what we perceive, starting with the key members of the family
appropriate to each culture and using the therapist as a cultural mediator. But
with cultural sensitivity comes its own challenges. Supervisors may not be
comfortable asserting what they know in any forum in which it could be perceived
that their way of practising is "the" way to practice. As Lappin and Hardy
(2002) explain: "The personal comfort supervisors derived from knowing that they
saw the world the same way as their supervisees has been replaced by a nervous
focus on respecting difference to the point that muted unease can win out over
confident supervisory declaratives" (p. 41). Clearly, with the need for more
contextually sensitive supervision there also comes the challenge to assert what
we know as senior clinicians in ways that do not subordinate the truth claims of
those with whom we work. The terrain may be difficult to navigate, but my
experience is that bracketing off my knowledge, as one truth, merely makes this
sharing less oppressive and even welcome. In the above case illustration, I
alternate between the authoritative role of supervisor and one more collegial in
tone. Instead of making categorical claims, I preface comments with statements
like: "I find that what I do fits for me personally, but it may not for you" or
"This has been my experience, what has been yours?"

(3) The questions
we ask elicit stories about problems and their solutions. The pattern of
questioning that we use as supervisors should elicit the stories of supervisees
in ways that allow those stories to be invested with power. It is not that, as
the supervisor, I have a better story, rather simply a different story that
explains how clinical work can be done. My expectation is that supervisees
entertain my questions as part of a process that leads them to discover the best
practice they can perform. As Stewart (2000) notes in his discussion of
postmodern questions in supervision: "We encourage supervisees to use a lot of
ideas gained from years of experience by others, but we also encourage them to
travel lightly-to not let any one set of ideas or practices define the
therapeutic moment" (p. 8).

As we always
remain outsiders to the therapeutic process of others, there is the challenge to
make our questions less instructive, eliciting others' knowledge rather than
parroting our own. This balance is not typical among those who have expert
knowledge in our western culture. However, as supervisors, we still carry the
responsibility to oversee ethical and reasonable practice. Goldenthal (2000),
for example, worries that he pushes his supervisees to do things that might be
in conflict with the mandates of their agencies, but feels obliged in the
interest of clients to instruct supervisees to act appropriately. Goldenthal's
role as advocate, social engineer, and all-around troublemaker collides with the
real-world constraints of those he supervises. In such instances, where is the
appropriate line to be drawn between professional practice and more overtly
political action? Should we, for example, push supervisees to politicize their
work when we perceive the need for advocacy, rather than therapy in its more
traditional form? Does my attempt to advocate for a small boy and his need just
to "play" offer too much of a challenge to the agency structure in which the
therapist works, which demands that she show evidence of therapeutic progress,
which means the boy deal specifically with the "trauma" of his sexual abuse?

A postmodern
approach to this problem acknowledges the multiple roles of the helper and the
need, perhaps, to maintain balance. It is not, however, an argument for
relativism. Although it remains in most cases the supervisee's role to evaluate
the best course of intervention, in instances in which supervisors suspect gross
neglect or ethical malpractice-instances in which even postmodernists would
agree that principles held as "universal by consent" (Leonard, 1997) are being
violated-supervisors are compelled to exert their power over the process of the
supervisee's work.

(4) Relationships
as vehicles to identity constructions. Anderson et al.'s (2000) study of 160
supervisees at the University of Connecticut revealed four broad dimensions of
supervision valued by the study's participants: openness in the supervisory
environment; respect, support, and encouragement; opportunities for personal
growth; and conceptual and technical guidance. Such a list seems to demand
varied definitions of the role of supervisor-definitions far broader than any
one title might provide. Indeed, such findings demonstrate that the relationship
between the supervisee and the supervisor is a negotiation for definition of
each other's roles. Relationships provide the forum in which we define both
ourselves and our experiences in positive or negative ways through the language
we have and the power that we can exert over what that language comes to mean.
What, we may ask, was the "trauma" the boy experienced? Was it the sexual abuse
or the subsequent intervention by those trying to help him? In my work with the
therapist, I perceived clearly a role for myself in helping her to consider how
she was co-constructing the child as a disempowered individual, while still
offering her a new co-construction of herself as having acted as a good
therapist.

(5) Transparency.
In supervision, I strive to make all my roles transparent. When I am performing
one or the other, I might say to those I supervise, "This is why I have chosen
to ask you these questions. What is your experience of what I am doing?" My own
training as a reflective practitioner (Schön, 1987) is indicative of the
transparency of those who have supervised me throughout my career who themselves
offered such reflections. Becoming the reflective practitioner that Schön extols
demands this capacity on my part as the supervisor to model transparency,
enabling understanding of my own position vis-à-vis those with whom I work and
the process in which I engage in as helper. Thus, this article, and similar
disclosures of my process, have been shared with those I supervise.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

The principles listed
above have support from postmodern therapists and supervisors who strive to
deconstruct the meaning of their roles as supervisors and helpers. In
particular, such a postmodern orientation may most benefit those practicing as
supervisors outside academic contexts (Storm et al., 2001). To the extent that
we are successful in adopting this orientation to intervention, we will be able
to navigate our way through the various ways in which we perform as supervisors.
As the case illustration demonstrated earlier, as a supervisor I move fluidly
between roles, constructing my identity in any number of ways during a
supervision session. Although I may assume any of a number of roles, I still
fundamentally agree with Crocket (2002) and others who argue that we must strive
for a supervision that breaks from patterns of domination, which centers me as
the supervisor without the transparency or willingness to deconstruct my
privileged position. This is a far better place from which to develop narratives
of success in others. Interestingly, supervisees may be less than enthusiastic
about a supervisor who does not perform as the expert. Crocket notes, following
her work with one woman whom she partners with in supervision, that she sees
"clearly the importance of carefully preparing counsellors to engage in
supervision, not as supervised persons ... but as counsellors who invite a
colleague to stand alongside them, to partner them, as they review their work.
This is a supervision that does not produce counsellors at the margins, but that
offers them speaking positions as they story their desires for supervision and
for their work as counsellors" (p. 20).

Given that we
simultaneously wear multiple hats, this postmodern positioning of supervisors as
other than experts does not mean we do not lead. In fact, Winslade (2002) shows
us that teaching, as a component of supervision, is still a responsibility. As
he says:

I have a
responsibility to introduce students to fields of knowledge and experience and
stories of life that they may not have come across. This is best thought of as
introducing a new person into a conversation that is well under way. It is
necessary for someone who is new to a conversation to listen to what the others
are talking about and to look for places where they can join in. (p. 37)

Perhaps it is
possible, after all, to be both centered and decentered during the same
supervision session, incorporating roles as diverse as supervisor and teacher.
Ultimately, that may be the contribution of postmodern thinking to supervision,
the critical perspective it brings to understanding that our roles are fluid,
constructed, and based on negotiations for power. A supervisor who helps another
therapist to find his or her own multiple stories, while performing the
supervisor's own preferred identity story, is modeling a process of
compassionate and reflective clinical intervention.